


Dinner

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Knight [73]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 12:33:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8751529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Poe is cooking. Or hot. Or both.





	

“Babe… babe… I’m wielding a knife.”  


“You’re doing it _so well_ ,” Kylo says, arms around his waist and head on his shoulder.   


“So now is maybe not the time to get frisky?”  


“I’m cuddling you, Poe. I’m not getting ‘frisky’.”  


“You have your arms around my waist.”  


“Mhm.” Kylo likes his waist. It’s so nicely trim and he can knot his hands together at his belly. Press up against his ass, breathe in the clean scent of his soap.   


“It’s… I’m _cooking_. Do you want to eat?”  


Kylo snickers, and his lips drag down to the nape of his neck. “I want to eat _plenty_ of things.” His hands move to the man’s upper thighs, making it clear _just what he wants_. 

Poe freezes, but he doesn’t object. That’s enough for Kylo, who slithers his way down over his back, and drops to kneel behind him. 

Poe’s knife-hand starts again, his chopping sounds distractedly arrhythmic as Kylo’s fingers tug and prise until there’s an ass peeking over the top of his pants. Kylo nuzzles the crack, kissing at one cheek. 

“If you make me ruin dinner…”  


“I won’t,” Kylo promises. He uses his nose to draw between his cheeks, pressing harder. A flat-tongued swipe, and then he pushes his hands under his shirt to feel for the flinches in his belly.   


“ _Maker_ , babe, I–”  


Kylo hums a ‘shush’, and splays his hands as he licks again. Poe is warm and open to the tongue-bath, rocking as he laves between his cheeks and behind his balls. Kylo’s fingers find Poe’s groin, and he brackets his groin in his hands like he’s framing a distant picture. Poe’s cock stirs between his palms, but Kylo ignores it as his tongue pushes into–

“KYLO!”  


Normally Poe is the one driving him mad, so this is a pleasant exchange. Feeling wicked, he grabs his lover’s cock in one hand, then the other. Stroking along and exchanging for the other fist, as he fattens his tongue and swirls it around inside of his hole. Poe’s stopped his duties altogether, gripping the counter and whimpering in delight at the touches. 

Kylo wraps his lips around the hole and _sucks_ , then slams his hand down the shaft to the base. He grips, and doesn’t let go. Slides up and over him, bodily against his back, and grabs the cooking oil. It’s not ideal, but it will work, and he unfastens his own pants before slicking his dick. 

Poe’s legs part further, and Kylo slams into him with one shove. It’s a little tighter than planned, but the pilot’s moans are thoroughly pleased, so he doesn’t feel guilty. 

An oil-slick hand shoves Poe back down flat, and the other just provides a tight channel to be fucked into, giving the pilot stimulation on both ends. Poe’s sounds get broken and hungry, his hands swiping ingredients away so he doesn’t come all over their dinner. 

“B-babe…”  


Kylo snaps into him, nuzzling his neck. “Mmmm?”

“G-gonna…”  


Feeling uppity, Kylo slams Poe’s face down onto the mostly-empty chopping board, and rides his ass like it’s the last ship off a burning planet. He feels Poe’s body fight and buck below him, and Kylo grunts his satisfaction at the tight squeeze of his hole. 

“Come on then,” Kylo growls. “Come on my dick, Poe. Wanna feel you…”  


“ _Ky_ …” He half-sighs, half-moans, the climax fucked out of him and all over the edge of the counter. “Oooohhhhh…”  


Smug, Kylo sheathes himself to the balls, and feels his climax gush out and into him. It’s a wash of pleasure, and he slumps over Poe, blanketing him to the counter.

“What’s for dinner?” he asks.

Poe just laughs. “Me.”


End file.
